


Expectations and Intimacies

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Developing Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7455595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy has a reputation for being touch-averse and keeping a very large bubble of personal space around himself. One member of his team knows differently, and tries to understand the very different sides of a certain Frenchman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations and Intimacies

**Author's Note:**

> well howdy-frigging-doo.
> 
> it's been a very long time since i've written anything or even felt like writing anything. there's been a lot of shit going on in life, including but not limited to illness in the family and deep, recurring periods of depression, and a lot of that has really sapped my motivation for writing or doing anything at all, really.
> 
> but. i'm working on that. because i miss writing, a lot. i'm very rusty and i just banged this whole thing out over the course of a day, and i dedicate it to each and every one of the lovely, wonderful people who have messaged me with kind words, with support, who have continued to read and reread and leave comments on my work. i want to thank you for your patience and your kindness. i want to do better and go back to providing semi-regular content for you all. i haven't abandoned this fandom, don't worry, but life interferes sometimes unfortunately
> 
> anyways. please accept this porn that i have written. thank you very much <3 feel free to come find at my tumblr [genuineanger](http://genuineanger.tumblr.com)

Spy was cold.

That was the general consensus between the members of the RED team, who knew the man best and who'd spent nearly every day around him since their employment had begun. Spy was cold, and distant, and disapproved of physical contact even between those who considered themselves his friends. He shied away from hugs and handshakes alike. During team huddles he stood carefully just out of reach, leaning in close enough to hear but not close enough that someone might be tempted to wrap an arm around his shoulder. On the rare occasion when someone did manage to grab ahold of him, either in genuine enjoyment or drunken stupidity, Spy would go rigid and immediately start working to get free.

The barrier he kept between himself and everyone else was very strict and very well defined. It became an unspoken but very well understood rule between the other members of his team: don't touch the Spy.

Medic was the exception.

Not that anyone else was aware of that. Not that anyone else could ever know just how close the Spy allowed him to get, or how often.

Truthfully Medic had never been very good at respecting boundaries. He was always standing too close, staring too intently, smiling too much and too widely at people who would have rather he just left them alone. He was used to people taking a step back from him, or looking quickly away. He was used to people pulling away from his hand on their arm or shoulders, flinching when he nudged them too hard or without warning. It was a character fault he'd never cute been able to correct, even through all the friction it had caused between various colleagues over the years. With Spy, it was no different. Even more than Scout and Demo, Medic was the most guilty of invading the Frenchman's carefully cultivated personal space and earning a sour glare and the occasional foreign insult for his mistake. The doctor was under the impression that his habit of invading personal spaces was annoying at best and extremely uncomfortable at worst.

So when Spy had kissed him, earnestly and softly and completely without warning, Medic was caught very off guard.

One moment they'd been standing next to each other, looking over the highly classified personal reports on each of their teammates which only Medic was supposed to have access to. Every time he tried to protect that privacy, however, Spy would pull rank and demand to see them – he never specified exactly what his “rank” was, only that it was higher than Medic's. The doctor turned to him to make a comment, and the next moment his face was cupped between both of Spy's hands and a pair of soft, thin lips were pressed to his own. Spy had turned to face him and now stood close enough for their chests to brush together. Through the leather of his gloves Medic could feel the heat of Spy's palms on his jaw and cheeks, and the pleasant tingle of fingertips at the nape of his neck.

He was so shocked that he returned the kiss immediately.

Spy's breath mouth was hot and tasted of bitter coffee and cigarette ash, but there was something so unexpectedly, wonderfully tender in his touches and the movement of his lips. Medic put a tentative hand on his shoulder, and then his waist, and when Spy's tongue flicked against his lower lip he met it quickly with his own.

This was a new and fascinating development between them, and one that he intended to explore as long and as thoroughly as he was able. Spy's attraction to him was surprising but not at all one-sided. Medic might have even made the first move, if he'd had any inkling at all that it would be well-received. He'd never even been this close to the man before. Never even dreamed that might be allowed so far into the unspoken bubble.

When Spy finally pulled away from him, a bit breathless and red in the face and with cautious, searching eyes, Medic dared to use the grip on his hip to hold him closer. It was a very good move.

“Take me to bed,” Spy had murmured, leaning in once more, pressing his lips to one side of Medic's mouth and then the other, and then to the side of his chin. “Now, _s'il vous plaît.”_

Medic was very happy to oblige.

Even if he were able to tell his teammates about the astounding difference in Spy's physical boundaries behind his closed doors he doubted they would believe him. How could a man so cold have skin that flushed so hot under his fingertips? How could a man who stared disdainfully at a friendly outstretched hand be the same man who now pressed so close to him and held so tight?

Spy led him to his own bed, and Medic didn't even think to question how the man knew where he slept. The little room off of the infirmary, a large storage closet into which he'd stuffed a bed and a chest of drawers was the doctor's closely guarded secret hideaway. But when Spy started pulling his clothes off he seemed to know right where to aim to toss them into the hamper. When Spy sank onto the edge of the bed and began toeing off his shoes, Medic decided it wasn't important that Spy knew where he slept. He only hoped that tonight he wouldn't be sleeping there alone.

Since the kiss started contact hadn't been broken between them. Spy led him to the bedroom by the hand and pressed close to him again the second the door was closed. The only time his took his hands off of Medic was to hurriedly strip off his gloves and jacket and loosen his tie before leaning in again, attacking the doctor's belt and buttons with gusto.

It didn't take long for Medic to stand to attention, with Spy's hot breath and lips and tongue on his flesh. Even then, Spy's hands were on him. His hips, his ass, the back of his trembling thighs. Stroking him, cupping him. Fingers teasing through the black and silver hair on his chest, following the tapering trail of it down his middle, tickling him and making the muscles of his stomach clench.

Another surprise, perhaps even more surprising than this sudden burst of physical contact was just how _noisy_ Spy was.

For a man who made a living out of moving silently to avoid detection, he seemed to have no shame whatsoever when it came to the sounds he made in the bedroom. Low, throaty moans that reverberated through Medic's body and made his knees weak. Lewd sucking sounds as Spy hollowed his cheeks around the thick head of Medic's cock, followed by a rough cough as he took the shaft further into his throat. Medic looked down at the sight of Spy's mouth on him, a bright flush sitting in high in the other man's cheeks, right beneath the gorgeous lengths of his eyelashes, and let out a high whine.

Even now Spy's hands were on him, gripping and massaging the firm muscles of his thighs, using him for both support and leverage. His palms were almost as hot as his mouth was.

When the pleasure hit a certain peak Medic put a hand on Spy's shoulder and moved him away.

“ _Auf de_ m Bett liegen,” he managed to say, pleased and relieved that he was immediately understood. Spy scrambled backward onto the mattress while working his trousers open with a speed that bordered on frantic. Medic was more than happy to him work around the bulge in the front of them, pulling them down the man's skinny legs before climbing into the bed beside him.

Spy was on him at once, closing the distance between them with a wet, heated kiss and a grind of his hips. Their chests pressed together, Medic's hairy one flush against Spy's nearly hairless own, legs tangling together. The doctor paused to take off his glasses and fumble them toward the bedside table before pressing as close to Spy as he could get without climbing into his skin and taking them both in hand. Spy wrapped an arm around his back and pulled them even closer, and ground hard into his palm.

It didn't take long at all for two pent-up, middle aged men to reach the highest peak of their pleasures, spilling onto each other's stomachs and chests and Medic's shaking hand. The doctor came with a sharp, silent huff in contrast to the high cry Spy let out, eyes squeezed shut, fingers digging hard into Medic's shoulder blade. They lay there together, sweaty and sticky and waiting for their own heartbeats to even out, sneaking glances at each other's flushed faces until there wasn't enough light left to see by. Medic was the first to move. Even then, Spy seemed reluctant to let go.

After they'd cleaned themselves up and changed the sheets, Medic was even more surprised by Spy's genuine willingness to accept his offer to stay the night. No posturing, no teasing or playing hard to get. He settled back into the clean bed like he belonged there, stretching languidly and looking like the most content cat in the world. When Medic climbed back into the narrow twin-sized mattress beside him, he was met with a warm, gentle embrace.

That first night took place nearly five months ago. Spy had been in his bed almost every night since.

It was still jarring sometimes to see the man draw away from a friendly pat on the back from a teammate, yet hours later would pull Medic to him and hold on so tightly he could hardly breathe. During work hours the Frenchman was his usual detached self. Off the clock, there was nothing detached about him whatsoever.

He whined when Medic got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. He pouted when the doctor refused to cut his experiments short just to come and curl up with him. He clung tightly to him beneath the sheets, face buried in Medic's shoulder, breath hot on his neck and chest as Medic rocked into him with a pair of long legs locked around his waist and a pair of thin hands clawing at his back, his neck, pulling at his hair, holding him fast and tight and close. When no one was watching in the locker rooms, Spy would sometimes thread their fingers together. Only for a moment, but just long enough to receive a reassuring squeeze. When they slept Spy was almost always half on top of him in some way. Either draped over his chest or curled into his side with an arm thrown over his chest. If he felt like making a nuisance of himself, Spy would slide into Medic's lap while he was working at his desk, filling out the same highly classified report forms that they'd been looking at when this whole affair started, kissing at his neck and jaw and running his hands over Medic's broad chest to try and tempt him to come to bed early. It only worked about half the time.

Not once had Medic questioned their relationship out loud. Never had he voiced his concerns, his wonderings, about Spy's polar opposite behavior in and out of his bedroom. He did wonder, of course. He didn't know what exactly triggered the sudden spark between them, or if there had been something like this with anyone besides him. Medic wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to know the answer to that one.

But the others whirled around his head at odd hours of the night. They distracted him from his dissections and examinations, making him lose his train of thought mid-cut.

So one night, he decided to ask.

“Why me?”

Medic was on the inside edge of the bed facing the wall. Spy, laying behind him, chest to back with an arm curled tight around his middle, must have been more asleep than he'd thought.

“ _Hm?”_

“Why are we doing this?” Medic asked softly, and then, disliking the way that sounded, rephrased: “Why are you here with me?”

Spy lifted his head from the pillow.

“Where else would I be?”

Medic didn't have an answer prepared for that.

“In your own bed?” he guessed. “Or someone else's?”

“Do you want me to go?” Spy asked sharply.

“ _Nein,_ of course not-”

“Then what are you talking about? Why should I want to be anywhere else but here?”

“I am trying to understand why you even _are_ here,” Medic told him, moving to roll over. There was no light to see by, not even coming under the crack beneath the door, but he wanted them to be face to face now. “I don't want you to leave, _schatz,_ but I... I do want to know why you stay. Why here? Why me?”

He could make out the silhouette of Spy's raised head in the darkness, the smooth lines of the mask he still refused to remove. Medic knew the man was staring at him. Searching the darkness for the details of his face, just the same as he was doing as well. But he was silent. And still.

Medic jolted slightly when he felt fingertips brush his chin. The followed up the sharp, broad curve of his jaw, the meat of a warm palm sliding up to caress his cheek. Spy made a noise in the dark, and it took a moment for Medic to realise it was a laugh. By then, he was being kissed.

“Why not you?” Spy breathed against his lips. He kissed him again. Softly, gently, tenderly. “Why would it ever be anyone but you?”

Medic didn't have an answer for that, either. Maybe, he decided, he didn't really need one.

Spy was warm. Warm in his arms, warm in his bed. A warmth that settled somewhere in his middle and his chest, fueled by their closeness, by the feel and heat and taste of his skin. That might not be an answer, but it was good enough, wasn't it?

Why not him? Why not this, for as long as they could cling to it?

Why would he ever want or wonder anything else?


End file.
